


men are made of glass and gas station wine

by lizwillstealyourgirl



Series: dog tags [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Steve Rogers, Dog Tags, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Tony-centric, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers, the author thinks she's very funny, very slight though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-17 13:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwillstealyourgirl/pseuds/lizwillstealyourgirl
Summary: The man laughs, his soft expression morphing into something even friendlier, glittering with amusement. “That’s nice,” he says, and anyone else would make it sound so disingenuous, but there’s insistence in his voice that tells Tony he means it. “Sorry, then. For bothering you.”“No!” Tony clears his throat, startled by his own sudden loudness. Adonis, god of beauty and desire, seems unbothered. “Sorry. No. It’s fine. Don’t apologize. Um, I’m Tony.” He sticks out a hand.“Steve,” People’s Sexiest Man Alive of 2019 responds, shaking Tony’s hand. “Good to meet you, Tony.”“You too,” Tony replies, but his tongue feels heavy and his mouth feels dry. He wonders if his eyes are as wide and heart-shaped as they feel. “Uh, come here often?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [dog tags](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20459360) by [imposterhuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/pseuds/imposterhuman). 

> this is short and sweet and part 1 of the 2 part fic i been thinking abt lately :))))

“Venti cold brew with two extra shots of espresso for Tony?”

Tony stands, and elbows his way through the crowd up to the Starbucks countertop. His short stature doesn’t always bother him, but in jam-packed cafes, it certainly tests his patience. Still, he smiles in that plastic, mostly-just-for-show way at the barista, a young woman with scruffy black hair and a name tag reading _ Daisy _.

“Thank you, Daisy,” he says smoothly, though decidedly not flirtatiously; she’s very obviously in the college-high school age range, or at least much, _ much _ younger than Tony is. Besides, getting laid isn’t even on Tony’s radar right now, honestly. “Say, there wouldn’t happen to be a very grande-sized, strawberry-flavored iced monstrosity coming out any time soon?”

“The Pink Drink?” Daisy asks, a grin pulling at the corners of her lips. “So, I guess that’s a drink you got for someone else?”

“Oh, no, I _ adore _ coconut milk and fruit. Why order perfectly good coffee at a very famous coffee shop when I could get sixteen ounces of pure fucking sugar?” Tony smirks. Daisy snorts, graciously unoffended by Tony’s antics, and leans back to look at the drinks being made out of Tony’s line of sight.

She says something to her coworkers that Tony can’t quite catch -- though he does happen to overhear some things like _ customer _ and _ coconut _ and _ refresher _ and a bunch of other shit he couldn’t bring himself to care about -- before turning back to him. “It’s being made right now. Should be ready in just a minute.”

Tony smiles at her and nods thankfully. “Perfect,” he says. Maybe if it weren’t so crowded, he would have been a little bit friendlier, asked about her day or life or favorite caffienated beverage - _ but _ it was crowded as _ fuck _, so he bites his tongue, moves to lean against the wall beside the counter, and pulls his phone out of his back pocket while taking a long and slow sip of his cold brew.

First, he opens Instagram, which he immediately regrets upon seeing the first post of his feed: a photo of his ex-girlfriend/personal assistant, Virginia, and her new girlfriend, Natasha. In an instant, he swipes up and closes the app, blinking away the burn in his chest and trying not to roll his eyes. They were sweet together, and he had no control over Virginia -- _ Pepper _ , he wants to call her, he used to call her, but he’s pretty sure he’s not allowed to anymore -- and he’d honestly mostly moved on, but there was still that uncontrollable _ ache _ in his gut whenever he thought about the happy couple.

Virginia and Natasha are in Cabo, on some resort-beach thing. Tony can’t help but wonder if he would’ve taken her himself, if given the chance. He probably would have. They might have drank mimosas together every morning, slept in until the sun shone in through the rafters, swam in the ocean long past sunset.

Tony never took her, and really, he has to be okay with that. Virginia and Natasha are drinking mimosas together, and -- good for them. Tony will be okay with that.

“Tony, I’ve got your Pink Drink,” calls Daisy, before Tony can find another app to distract himself with. He pockets his phone again, slinking up to the countertop once more as quickly and casually as he can. He’ll mull over the Virginia/Natasha thing a different time.

“Thank you,” he tells her as politely and sweetly as he can, and throws her another plasticy smile (which she returns with one of her own) before holding the drink in his free hand and walking out of the Starbucks. He takes a languid sip of his cold brew, swirling the coffee in his mouth a little before swallowing, inhaling deeply through his nose as the iced drink settles in his stomach.

Tony walks for a few minutes, destination highlighted in red like a thumbtack in his mind. He knows exactly where he’s going, when he’ll be there, how to get there on time, and everything -- _ everything _ \-- is going exactly to plan. He’s got the stupid Pink Drink for hilarious, teasing purposes; he’s wearing two dog tags around his neck, one somehow weighing heavier than the other (likely due to the ring Tony has loped through it); his phone is fully charged, and Snapchat is even open. Tony isn’t one to prepare for things ahead of time -- in college, he never once studied for a test; in work, he doesn’t practice his presentations or speeches, and chooses to wing it instead; in relationships, the most planning he does successfully is writing down a birthday on his calendar just in case he forgets -- but for this, he’s more than just _ well prepared _ . He’s fucking _ ready _.

When he finally makes it to baggage claim -- Terminal 3, United Airlines, flight number 577 -- Tony is vibrating with anticipation. For what is likely the very first time, his coffee is doing nothing to soothe his nerves. It’s been -- oh, holy shit -- _ six months _. Six months, and he’s here. With a Pink Drink and a cold brew and Snapchat and dog tags that aren’t even his. (Well, they’re maybe a little bit his.)

He’s 20 minutes early. Tony can count on one hand the number of times he’s been early to anything, so his arrival time actually says a lot about how important this is. And, well, what the hell is a guy who’s 20 minutes early supposed to do except pull out Instagram and stalk his ex’s new girlfriend’s profile in a very polite, totally-moved-on kind of way?

Tony actually is over it, mostly. He and Pepper -- _ Virginia _ , he corrects, because he shouldn’t get to have nicknames for her anymore, not after he fucked everything up -- were good, sure, but he always knew it wasn’t meant to be. In the quiet early mornings, when Virginia was sleeping peacefully and Tony was struck with fear that was only halfway rational, the shifting from the body next to him provided him less comfort and more a sensation of deadweight against his scarred and torn arm. He would suffocate some nights, the pain in his chest on the wrong side of too-tight; it wasn’t Virginia’s fault. Tony was fucked up -- _ is _ fucked up, still. It was never meant to be.

But what hurts Tony -- in some weird, almost numb way -- is that he actually introduced Natasha to Virginia. She has red hair, so bright it’s blinding, and one of those smiles that leaves everyone’s stomachs twisting beautifully in its wake. She’s beautiful, and Virginia is too, and they’re both so determined and badass and hardheaded that of _ course _ they would find each other as soon as Tony fucked out of the picture. He doesn’t blame them. He can’t -- he gets it.

They’re a power couple, Tony decides after scrolling through Natasha’s feed. She’s only made four posts with Virginia, two of them having more than one photo attached, but Virginia’s made seven. He looks at all of them, which are all vastly similar in that there’s more often than not a cute picture of their arms wrapped around each other or lips pressed against each other, likely taken by a friendly and thankfully not homophobic passerby, with a cheesy caption (Virginia) or a string of vaguely related emojis (Natasha).

They’re a power couple, and Tony is mind numbingly _ single _ so he just has to deal with it.

He clicks off of Instagram. When he checks the time, it’s only been almost 10 minutes, so he’s not even halfway there. He wants to press fast forward on the whole thing so he can just get it all over with and watch _ Grey’s Anatomy _ or some other soapy bullshit with his best friend, but he can’t do that. (He does think, very briefly, that waiting in the baggage claim area, like the way he’s doing right now, is surprisingly exhilarating. Every few minutes, a crowd of people come bustling to the carousels to collect their suitcases, and Tony can’t help but place the image of it happening in 20 minutes time into his mind. He’s bored as fuck, sure, and impatient as hell, but _ god _ will his heart be racing in that beautiful, _ it’s been six fucking months _ kind of way.)

“You serve?” A voice breaks through Tony’s wall of thoughts. He looks up, and - oh. Wow. Now _that _ is a man.

Standing in front of him is a tall, burly, blond man, and Tony is _ completely _ sure this man was carved by the Greeks themselves and somehow hadn’t aged a day since Heracles completed the Twelve Labors. He smiles at Tony gently, face soft and vulnerable with a furrowed brow and a crease in his forehead. His shoulders are broad -- _ Wow, they are _ ** _broad_ ** , Tony muses -- and his arms are crossed shyly over his chest. He’s wearing a grey Henley that airs wonderfully on the side of _ too small _ and pants with a plaid, grid design, and his hair is sort of tousled in a way Tony can’t say for sure is purposeful or not.

“No,” Tony replies, after staring at the modern Roman god for a few seconds too long. “Um, why?”

“Your tags,” the man explains, nodding his head and looking down at Tony’s neck, where Rhodey’s tags still hang.

“Oh,” Tony says dumbly. “They’re my best friend’s. He gave them to me. It was very emotional. Like a scene from a Brom Com.”

The man laughs, his soft expression morphing into something even friendlier, glittering with amusement. “That’s nice,” he says, and anyone else would make it sound so disingenuous, but there’s insistence in his voice that tells Tony he means it. “Sorry, then. For bothering you.”

“No!” Tony clears his throat, startled by his own sudden loudness. Adonis, god of beauty and desire, seems unbothered. “Sorry. No. It’s fine. Don’t apologize. Um, I’m Tony.” He sticks out a hand.

“Steve,” People’s Sexiest Man Alive of 2019 responds, shaking Tony’s hand. “Good to meet you, Tony.”

“You too,” Tony replies, but his tongue feels heavy and his mouth feels dry. He wonders if his eyes are as wide and heart-shaped as they feel. “Uh, come here often?”

Practically anything Tony could’ve said would have been better -- _ How are you? What brings you here? Do you serve? Tell me about yourself _ \-- Tony has always been the kind of guy who’s amazing at making a fool out of himself. Surprisingly, though, Steve doesn’t seem uncomfortable or weirded out by Tony’s very poor attempts at flirting; in fact, he breaks out into a grin and laughs again and it sounds like wind chimes and violins and drums and -- wait, no, that last part is just Tony’s heart fucking _ crawling _ into his throat. “Honestly, no. Planes aren’t my thing, but I’m - uh - picking up my best friend.”

“He’s coming to visit the Big Apple?”

“Coming home,” Steve answers. “Born and raised in Brooklyn. What about you? Who are you waiting for?”

Tony smiles. Steve’s eyes -- bright blue and sparkling in a way that leaves Tony breathless -- crinkle at the sides when he returns the grin. “My best friend, too,” he explains. “He’s been deployed for six months. I brought him a coconut milk, strawberry concoction because he’s disgusting and drinks this shit all the time.” He lifts the Pink Drink cup and shakes it, prompting Steve to wrinkle his nose.

“Ew,” says Steve, and Tony barks out a laugh. “Bucky has a thing for the purple one. It’s the exact same but instead of strawberry, it’s like - blackberry, or some shit. I hate it. I don’t really like coffee either, but it’s still worlds better than - milky fruit water.”

Tony laughs again, and because the fire in Steve’s eyes is infectious, he agrees passionately. “I mean, my bodily composition is about 65% percent coffee, but. Yeah. Milky fruit water. Literal crime against humanity.” Steve smiles again, and Tony jerks his head to the empty seat beside him on the bench. “If you’re not busy, you can - um - sit.”

Steve hesitates, and Tony is _ sure _ time stops in this moment. There’s an air of flirtation between them, sure, but what if Tony’s reading everything wrong? What if Steve is just making friendly conversation, and truly wants nothing more than to turn and run from Tony’s shaky hands and cold brew and lame attempts at humor? For a second -- a full _ second _, maybe two -- Tony’s breath is caught in his throat and his stomach is flipped upside down and backwards.

But then Steve steps forward and says, “If you don’t mind.”

Tony nods furiously. “I don’t mind at all,” he replies, his leg twitching just a little in the stupid anticipation of it all. “Really,” he adds, as if Steve doesn’t believe him. Actually, he thinks, Steve might not have, because there’s suddenly a slump in the blond’s shoulders and a sense of laze oozing off him. 

Steve sits next to Tony, close enough that Tony can smell his cologne -- warm, spicy, something a little bit like cinnamon, which is adorable and refreshing in the late October chill -- and feel his leg brush up against Tony’s. “Um,” Steve starts, a little uncertain, like he’s nervous. Tony nods at him, urging him to continue. “I’m actually picking Bucky up from deployment too. He’s been gone for eight months. Where was your friend stationed?”

“Afghanistan,” Tony replies. “I don’t - I don’t anything about his time there or - or anything, really. Um, what about Bucky?”

“Him too.” Steve says. “Actually, uh, I was out there until last year. Honorable discharge.”

“I really have no idea what that means,” quips Tony, although apologetically so. “Well, Rhodey was honorably discharged too. And I know it’s not a bad thing, but I don’t actually _ know _ what that means. I’ve made a pretty consistent and successful effort to learn absolutely nothing about the military.”

Steve chuckles so genuinely it leaves warmth and electricity and thunder crackling all throughout Tony’s bones. “Well, I certainly don't blame you. It’s not all that easy to understand, even when you’re at boot camp.” Tony grins.

A brisk glance to Tony’s watch indicates that Rhodey’s flight should have landed a few minutes ago, and should be unloading the passengers soon. A topsy-turvy feeling crawls through Tony’s gut briefly, although it’s mostly positive. (There’s a very small part of him that is disappointed, because the sooner Rhodey’s flight lands, the sooner Tony say goodbye to Steve. And Steve has very pretty eyes that Tony would like to keep looking at.)

“How much longer ‘till your Bucky gets here?” Tony asks curiously. Maybe he could blackmail Rhodey into letting him flirt a little while longer; Tony knows of some smart hot girls, particularly a very intelligent and terrifying woman named Nebula, who literally scares the shit out of Tony in all the best ways. If he gave Rhodey her number, well…

“His flight landed, I think,” Steve answers, and that makes Tony’s heart drop into his chest, but the genuine half-disappointment in Steve’s voice makes Tony’s heart soar, too. “At least, it should’ve.”

“Rhodey too,” replies Tony. “While we wait, why don’t you tell me about yourself? What are you doing since you’ve come back?”

Steve blushes, and Tony knows for a goddamn _ fact _ whatever answer the blond god has will be a good one. “Well,” Steve starts -- _ Fuck yeah _ , Tony cheers from deep inside his mind, ** _Fuck_ ** _ yeah _\-- “I run an art studio.”

With how embarrassed Steve had been, Tony was really betting for something a little _ raunchier _ . Not that he was disappointed, and he says as much: “I really thought you were gonna be like, a stripper or something, ‘cause you were _ red _, Steve. Cute, sure, but red as hell.”

Steve blushes a little bit more. “Some people think it’s weird. I came back from fighting terrorists to teach kids how to draw fruit. But I like it. _ Art Is _ is my baby and I love her very much.”

Tony laughs, but more than anything else, he _ gets _ it. _ Stark Industries _ is his proudest heirloom, it’s the best thing he has, the most top-drawer, cream of the crop shit he’s ever done. Was it, at some point, very awful? Sure. Was that Tony’s fault? Probably. But does it do good -- even great -- things now, because of Tony? Fuck yeah it does, and really, to Tony, that’s what matters most. Maybe once upon a time Tony would have been embarrassed to slap his name on the company that sold weapons to terrorists, but now, he’s doing everything in his power to reserve that shitshow, so yeah -- he’s proud. SI is his baby, and maybe AI is Steve’s, and maybe that’s a sign.

“What about you?” Steve asks, and Tony’s a little surprised. “What do you do?”

Tony’s kind of a well known face. He knows it. Really, everyone in his life knows it too. Tony had, just a little bit, expected Steve to ask about SI at _ some _ point, and _ maybe _ he was playing dumb, but there was an earnestness in his eyes that made Tony feel like _ maybe not _ . “CEO,” he replies, nonchalant as possible. “ _ Stark Industries _.”

“Huh,” Steve says, all slow like he’s embarrassed he hadn’t known before. “I - What do you do, exactly? Like, what’s your-” Steve waves his hand around, at a loss for words- “thing?”

Tony snorts. “Multinational industrial company. Tech conglomerate. Computers, prosthetics, phones -- that stuff.” He shrugs, and Steve grins brightly. “I’m pleasantly surprised you’re living in ignorance of SI.”

Steve smiles when he starts to respond and it’s so soft that it leaves Tony dizzy and starstruck in a way that he’s probably never felt before. “Apparently, because I know very little about technology, I’m an honorary grandfather.”

And then Tony replies, as if on instinct, “Cute.” Before Tony can actually _ appreciate _ the pinkish glow of Steve’s cheeks, the roaring sound of someone(s) calling out their names cuts their conversation devastatingly short.

“Steve!” the first voice, the louder of the two, shouts in the distance.

Almost immediately after, another person’s cry of, “Tony!” echoes through the airport.

Steve and Tony both turn, virtually at the same time, to face the direction the two oh-so-familiar voices, and Tony is only a little stunned to see a seated Rhodey being pushed by a long hair, one armed, Jesus man. Tony beams, even if there’s a pang in his chest at the sight of a wheelchair skidding across the airport floor with the strongest man Tony had ever known in tow.

“Rhodey,” Tony breathes, and all of a sudden he’s running, and the meters between them shrink to yards shrink to feet shrink to inches shrink to nothing, shrink to _ nothing _, and he throws himself into the arms of a laughing James Rhodes. In his peripheral vision, he sees Steve and the half-assed Keanu Reeves impersonator pull each other in for a super manly bro-hug.

When Rhodey holds Tony against his chest, Tony’s pretty weak; he thinks, right now, Rhodey could ask for anything, and Tony would only be able to give and give and give. Rhodey whispers in his ear, “Hey, Tones,” but what matters most is the heartbeat Tony feels pressed against his chest and the pulse that thumps when his fingertips trail up to Rhodey’s neck and, to some value of the word, is okay.

Tony pulls away when Rhodey starts to laugh at him wetly and push him off. On his way out, though, he presses a jumbled kiss to Rhodey’s cheek, as per tradition. “Missed you,” he admits, quiet enough so only Rhodey can hear him. Beside them, Steve and Bucky pull apart, and Bucky throws a hand to push at Steve’s head, ruffling his hair consequently. Steve just chuckles, but it’s so deep that it reverberates through Tony’s chest even from three feet away.

“You ready?” Rhodey asks, and Tony wants to say yes, wants to get the hell out of there so that they can pick up right where they left off, halfway through an episode of _ Jane The Virgin _, but when he blinks he sees blue eyes, broad shoulders, blond hair, and so he hesitates.

Rhodey can tell he’s hesitating. They’ve always known each other so well. He can probably tell why, too, which is why he grins at Tony all smug and says, “Introduce me to your friend.”

At that, Steve turns and smiles at Rhodey. He sticks out his right hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“Good to meet you, Steve,” Rhodey says, firmly shaking Steve’s hand with a sparkling grin. Tony is thoroughly impressed with the lack of shitheadery Rhodey is possessing right now. “James Rhodes.”

“Call him Jim,” Bucky adds, a little smirk on his face like he’s spilling secrets or inside jokes with people who could never understand. “We had a little spat about who could be called James. I won.”

Rhodey scoffs, but it’s light and friendly and even kind of fond, too. Like it’s a good memory, even if it’s wrapped up in torn up tissue paper and bloodied gauze. “Fuck off, Buchanan.”

Bucky laughs loudly, but Steve laughs _ beautifully _ . Tony can tell by the look in his eyes this wasn’t what he was expecting -- Steve didn’t think Bucky would come home with a new friend -- but he also knows that Steve isn’t _ mad _ about it. Steve looks surprised, taken aback, sure -- but happily so. Tony gets it. He’s living it. And best of all, Tony is living it right next to Steve, who laughs at Rhodey’s teasing to the tune of violins, and Tony’s dizzy with the magnificence of it all.

But then, Tony’s stomach drops, his guts twisting and turning and tying themselves into knots, and he remembers that this could be a goodbye. It’s not like Steve and him were having this monumental, once-in-a-lifetime conversation, but Steve is gentle and quiet and sweet in a way that makes Tony crave _ moremoremore _. Really, Tony wants to talk to Steve again, even if it’s only just on the wrong side of flirty and polite.

Bucky responds to Rhodey, but Tony doesn’t hear it. He does hear _ Jim _ and _ asshole _ and _ back in July _ and some other shit, but all he can _ listen to _ is the sound of his own stupid heart thumping in his chest. Quickly, almost immediately, he’s interrupted by a hand (a _ huge _ hand, by the way, goddamn) being set smoothly on his shoulder. He blinks, turns, and sees Steve smiling at him, leaning down a little bit to talk quieter, but it’s all very subtle and perhaps goes unnoticed by their two friends.

“It would be pretty inappropriate to ask for your number right now, huh? Seeing as we’re picking up our closest friends who were both WIA?”

Tony laughs. “Oh yeah,” he agrees, already pulling out his phone, shooting a little prayer to God inside his head and saying a silent thank you for introducing Tony to a pretty blond artist on this fine Thursday morning. “And it’d be really bad if I gave it to you, wouldn’t it?”

Steve pulls his phone out to, and sticks the unlocked device out for Tony to grab. “Well, yeah, but,” Steve shrugs, “I’ll forgive you.” When Tony takes his phone -- holy shit, it’s old, and it’s not even a Stark Phone, which isn’t actually _ surprising _ , but it is _ disappointing _ \-- Steve smiles and Tony has to say _ another _ prayer, _ Thank you, Lord, for this sexually liberating tree I will hopefully be climbing very, very soon _; if he’d said it out loud, Tony thinks Steve might have laughed, and maybe that’s a sign.

Tony puts a little airplane emoji next to his contact in Steve’s phone. Tony shakes Bucky’s hand -- or _ James _ , as he introduces himself -- and makes some snarky but clearly very heartfelt joke about the guy watching out for Rhodey overseas. James smiles and says something like, _ Oh, Jim was watching out for me, too _, and it’s sweet, cheesy, disgusting, very Brom Com-y, but Tony’s still just happy anything is happening at all. Rhodey’s home.

Tony waits to check Steve’s contact until he gets home. Rhodey doesn’t let him text and drive, a rule which Tony _ technically _ respects, but mostly just argues with. In his phone is _ steve rogers _ , not a capital letter in sight, and a little heart -- _ <3 _ \-- attached to the name. Tony grins.

_ Tell me more about your ‘Art Is’ thing. _

He wishes he could say he didn’t sit by the phone, waiting for a reply, but Tony is not a damn liar. 

He doesn’t wait that long, actually; 7 minutes later, his phone chimes a response.

_ only if tell me more about ur ‘multinational industrial company’ _

And -- fuck. Maybe that’s a sign.


	2. Chapter 2

hey guys! this is not an update. sorry for playing with your feelings if you expected it to be.

i know that fanfiction is supposed to be a safe place, away from the horrible reality that we live in. i know. you can skip this chapter if you want. i can't stop you. and while i don't have much of a platform on ao3 - i'm by no means a popular author, but my fics do moderately well - i do know someone, somewhere, is going to read this. and hopefully, i can educate you on something i really, really care about in the aftermath of something that really pissed me off.

so _somebody_ posted some shady shit today and i wanna take this as an opportunity to remind **non-black people** of some key things.

1\. Black lives matter. always. unconditionally. in every city, state, country, you live in. in every language you speak. in every circumstance.** Black lives matter.**

2\. believing that Black lives matter doesn't mean shit if you're not having all the provocative conversations you can have. i'm not saying pick a fight with your abusive parents, obviously, but every day you should take every opportunity possible to educate someone. tweet something. post on instagram. have a tough conversation with someone that said something hurtful. i know it's hard to sit your mom down and tell her it's fucked up when she says blue lives matter, but imagine how the world feels for Black people. 

3\. educate yourself. the movement is not over until Black people are safe. sign a petition, go to a protest, donate to a gofundme, do something, anything. 

* * *

if you're like me, youtube is your favorite resource for education. here are some great informative and helpful videos.

_ **LAST WEEK TONIGHT WITH JOHN OLIVER** _

**Ferguson, MO, and Police Militarization** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUdHIatS36A>

**Police Accountability ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaD84DTGULo>

**Police ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wf4cea5oObY>

_ **JADA JONES** _

**want to be educated? this is the video for you...** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NKGkXoF60Ik>

** _THE DAILY SHOW WITH TREVOR NOAH_ **

**America Protests Police Brutality and Systemic Racism ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YknhztcrURY>

_ **PATRIOT ACT WITH HASAN** _ ** MINHAJ**

**We Cannot Stay Silent About George Floyd ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_FE78X-qdY>

_ **TEDX TALKS ** _

**Eliminating Microaggressions: The Next Level of Inclusion (Tiffany Alvoid)** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cPqVit6TJjw>

**50 years of racism - why silence isn't the answer (James A. White Sr.) ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9DDE7NV1Nw>

_ **ROB BLISS** _

**Holding A Black Lives Matter Sign in America's Most Racist Town** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltmlvk9GAto>

and in my opinion, the most heart wrenching one:

_ **GREAT BIG STORY** _

**Black Lives Matter Protests Around the World** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Vl4I0weXPU>

* * *

hopefully that moved you. if it didn't, i have nothing to say to you. if it did, here are some ways you can help.

<https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/>

> <https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#petitions>
> 
> <https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#donate>
> 
> <https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#text>

[https://blacklivesmatter.com/resources/](https://blacklivesmatter.com/resources/?__cf_chl_jschl_tk__=a1ac1fa6f7f8b0a72a857a03f3b8105739500096-1599100124-0-AZTNFo8Cfx0fa3opjRHvoVtq4jxSoPuD_ADm5PUPui_-dUNRaSRV0zEdUs3Htyia-cTVITPP_CGmJaxRqn3TJnOaPUe8o2-L6jO406RTGIKG5CzXCn9WjEVXn1o_iz_93rMGLMXz2__VRpC0G7DfJiJHRILzQF3oUk2x3RkjWSV66NUnzfZ3bWJzMxyhh9E5R2IuQbPFWB2wI5mGP4YMcY8u4FDAWxTejgAYiUICsahlo5OcgAMYw91nOoZpz6to4Cv7eh_nfVehfzdhZKiG0AzF8sIXcY0UKETdaU-LstacqHmA4qIvJd1VFS_-7C6kRXtwiOVnOx6OFWwZh7JAtaMr-kMDv3DAknireXggns_5)

<https://www.manrepeller.com/2020/06/black-lives-matter-resources.html>

<https://docs.google.com/document/u/1/d/1yxj0kSC2-LzINUlfNMEV_Qi-7ZtWCTLSua3Z-9XFNqA/mobilebasic>

* * *

and here are the names you cannot forget.

<https://sayevery.name/>

* * *

the world is a big scary place, but it's even scarier when you're at risk of being murdered with no justice for the color of your skin. now is not the time to stay silent. if you are not Black, you are obligated to stand up for the Black community. your whiteness could save somebody's life.

> When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would always say to me, _Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping._
> 
> \- Fred Rogers

now is the time for you to be a helper.

change starts with us.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed ;D p2 coming soon
> 
> okay edit  
so this was inspired by the fic i tagged (dog tags!!! so good. chef’s kiss) and also a bunch of random researching!!! i was like, “hey steve giving tony his dog tags? good shit” but i didnt wanna do established relationship so i started thinking and researching and some forum for veterans/soldiers discussed giving people dog tags and they were like “if someone is wearing them irl i assume they’re hella pretentious, newbies, or a loved one missing their person overseas” and i was like omg misunderstanding where steve thinks tony serves??? uwu but then i just like....went a totally diff direction HAHAH OKAY SO ENJOY PART TWO WILL INCLUDE STEVE GIVING TONY HIS DOG TAGS :D


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